Virtue - The 48th Hunger Games
by Josephm611
Summary: Part of the irony of the Hunger Games is that even virtues can be used to attain an unvirtuous goal. Fifteen-year-old Aaran Surge from District Five knows this all too well. After he is Reaped into the 48th Hunger Games, he soon discovers that virtue and victory don't play nicely together...
1. Courage

**A/N Woah... It's been a hot second since I was on here. I've gone through some of my old stuff recently, and it made me realize how much I miss writing. This is a story I was planning around the time I quit, so I thought it'd be a good way to ease back into writing. WIll I ever go back to writing SYOTs? Probably not, but anything is possible. I've missed this place!**

 **Please take some time to review! For those of you that knew me before I disappeared, leave me or shoot me a message! I'd love to catch up!**

 **I also welcome any type of criticism and feedback about improvement!**

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 _Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack. Wheeeeeeeer….. Clickety-clack._

That's how the trains in District Five run. They're loud, annoying, and shaky, and it's what I expected when my escort Clementina told us we were headed for the train. However, this train runs with a soft purr, occasionally complaining about uneven stretches or track with a low rumble.

Some things don't change, however; I still have to eat. I haven't had a bite since the stolen dinner roll last night and it's nearly noon. I tap my foot on the carpet of my bedroom, in which Clementina dumped me when we first entered the train. How much longer until it's time to eat? Are they going to let us starve? Considering that we're headed for a deathmatch, it wouldn't be surprising, but given that they went to the trouble of giving us all this luxury, I'd expect that they wouldn't withhold food.

Still, looking around can't hurt, especially if I'm guaranteed to die. District Five tributes never have the physical resilience and strength needed to withstand the Games. Even if I were strong enough, I'm not brave enough to make it.

I poke my head out and look down the hallway. No one is in sight. I slide up to the door — it opens without squeaking, revealing the small, enclosed space between train cars. The next door is locked; I fumble in my pockets for the lockpick. They did pat me down when we entered the train, but they didn't catch the slender piece of metal hidden below my pant seam.

The Capitol-made lock is surprisingly not much harder than the ones back home, so either the Capitol is greatly overrated or they're not protecting anything valuable in here. With a slight jiggle and a little push, the knob turns, revealing a storage room — or, storage car. Piles of crates line the walls of the dark, cold room. The light behind me illuminates the corner of a box.

"Oranges." The color? Or…

Food! This train car is full of wonderful, glorious food. I stare for a few moments. I've never seen this much food in my years on the streets of Five. Heck, we didn't have this much food when my mom was still around.

I tear a small hole in the edge of the wrapper and pull out an "orange" about the size of my fist. I've never had one — I've only ever seen them when I accidentally snook into rich houses. I bite into the rough skin, and a bitter flavor overwhelms my mouth before a wonderful sour sweetness overtakes it.

Clementina's acrid voice interrupts my ecstasy. "Aaran! What are you doing in here?"

I stare back. No place to run in here. Slowly, I back away. What will she do to me? I almost laugh at my patheticness. I'm on a train to the Hunger Games and I'm not brave enough to stand up to my doting escort.

"I've been searching everywhere for you! It's time for lunch! How did you even get in here anyway?"

"Well…" I sputter, "The door… was left unlocked."

She grabs my arm. "Now come on! Everyone is waiting for you."

"I'm… very sorry."

She sighs as she leads me through the train cars to the dining car. "It's fine." She glances at the half-eaten orange in my hand and laughs. "Oh! You poor dear! You don't know how to eat these, don't you!"

"Well…"

"I'll show you at lunch! You're supposed to peel off the skin before you eat them!"

I guess she's right. If you ask me, it tasted pretty good the way it was.

When we finally reach the dining room, the table is already full of foods of all colors and shapes. I recognize some meats and vegetables, but the rest is completely unfamiliar. The aroma reaches my nose and my mouth begins to water. I reach out for a glistening, white, disk-like food.

Clementina slaps my hand away. "Sit down before you start eating! Poor child! You're half-starved, aren't you?"

I glare at her and sit before making a big gesture of grabbing food, staring at her the entire time. She just smiles back. I can't understand these people.

When I bite into the thick disk, there's a bit of chewy resistance and then it's all soft—

It's slimy. I hurriedly swallow the bit I chewed off and toss the rest onto my plate.

"Never had a scallop before?" interrupts a different, deeper voice.

When I look up, three sets of eyes are looking back at me. Clementina and the two District Five victors, Photine Orly and Abner Sheraga. Abner is the older one. He won twenty years back through his skills with electronic equipment. Photine won about five years ago without killing a single tribute because she outran both the Gamemakers' mutts and the other tributes.

Abner grunts. "My first experience with scallops was quite similar to yours. If you survive this d*** game you'll have all the time in the world to get used to them."

The Hunger Games. In my excitement, I had forgotten about my entire purpose of being here. All of a sudden, my appetite disappears and a queasiness replaces the growling hunger. Beside me, my district partner, Levina Bronte, squirms in her seat.

Abner continues. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but that's really all that matters now." He grins wryly. "Well, you do have a choice. You can either eat and drink and go die. In that case, don't listen to me. Or, you can start preparing yourselves and actually give yourself a chance."

There's a long, grim pause. Photine looks disapprovingly at Abner but doesn't say anything, Abner wordlessly shifts his gaze between Levina and me, looking us up and down. While his eyes are on me, he sighs and shakes his head. Excuse me?

Levina takes a deep breath. "Then let's give it a go."

Abner looks at me. "What about you?"

I stare at the ground. What kind of preparation would give me even a slight chance? "If we prepared… my odds would still be infinitesimally low."

Abner shrugs and rises from his seat. "Have it your way; enjoy the food. Levina, you come with me." With that, both leave the dining car.

I glare at Abner's disappearing figure. I might look small, but I'm… not small? That's not quite right either.

Photine focuses her attention on me. "What's your decision?"

"If anything… I'll win just to rub it in his face," I joke.

She smiles weakly. "That sounds much better."

"But... " I hesitate. "It's still no good, isn't it? Even if I worked day and night, I wouldn't have the skills to win. I'll still try, of course, but I'm still doomed."

She twirls her fork. "Don't discount yourself too quickly. I managed to get out of that arena without killing a single person, not because I was strong but because I was fast. I'm sure you have something you can play to your advantage."

"Not unless being cowardly and forgettable is somehow beneficial."

"That's how Joktan Telfour won forty years ago."

"They won't let it work again," I say. "His Games were the most boring thing ever. He just hid underground until even the Capitol thought he was dead and then killed the last surviving opponent."

"You never know. It could happen."

I bristle. "I get you're trying to help, but realistically, I can't win." I throw up my hands. "Even if I had a slight chance, I wouldn't be brave enough to take it. I'm too d*** scared."

Photine looks me dead in the eye. "Aaran. Shut up and listen to me."

I gulp and nod.

"You're scared. So is everyone. Suck it up and try your hardest anyway. That's what courage is — trying your hardest even when you can't see victory. You hear me?"

I nod again.

"I'm ordering you to be courageous. I will hear no more complaining about your odds."

"I never had a choice, did I?" I say.

"Of course not!" she says. "I'm being brave by doing my best to mentor you. I expect just as much from you."

Somehow, her declaration seems to have worked. The queasiness in my stomach is now gone. I guess courage takes many forms 'cause now, it's taking the form of gnawing hunger.

"Can I eat now?"

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 **Please do leave a message and let me know what you think! Follow the story if you're interested!**


	2. Adaptability

**A/N As I began to write the chapter, I realized I needed to plan the story out further, hence the extra wait.**

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"I'm not putting that on," I say, staring Tatiana, my stylist, in the eyes — her artificial pink eyes, which shimmer like garish, neon signs of District Five that cannot mask the dreary danger of the power plants they shine above.

She rests her tattooed hand, covered in streaks of black and pink, on the mannequin where my costume sits in all of its tacky garishness. Electric bolts of fabric and plastic hang from all sides of the glitter-covered black jumpsuit, while a flashy yellow cape and belt complete the flashy terror.

"Yes. You are most definitely going to put this on," she insists. "Come on, we don't have much time."

Photine had commanded me to obey the stylist, but I don't think I can take any more. First was the humiliation of having to strip stark naked. Then, they scrubbed my skin until I felt as raw as a bird about to be cooked, completely defeathered and waiting on the countertop of a rich family's kitchen. Now I'm supposed to change into this monstrosity. It's time to practice some of that boldness.

"I'm not wearing that mess."

"Excuse me? This is my most marvellous masterpiece!"

"I'd prefer going naked than in your 'masterpiece.' "

"Fine then," she growls, "Go out naked."

Never mind. I sigh and let her put me into her "marvellous masterpiece."

As soon as the last zipper is pulled into place and the last clip is fastened, she spins me around to face the mirror. I look myself up and down, from my hair, slicked back and accented with sharp, yellow highlights, to my black boots, sprinkled with golden glitter.

"See?" she says, clearly enjoying her creation, "You look most brilliant."

"It looked better on the mannequin," I huff, though both she and I know that it's just a pitiful attempt to remain "stubborn."

"I didn't ask you." she huffs as she drags me through the building's labyrinth of hallways and rooms, leading me to the elevator that takes me down to the beginning of the parade.

From what I can see, the bottom floor of the Styling Center is a large, open room with a high ceiling, enclosed on three sides with transparent walls and open on the fourth to reveal a wide street, where the tribute parade takes place. The long rays of the afternoon sun shine in, illuminating the room with natural light, although it is supplemented with artificial lighting around the darker corners. I'm willing to bet that the majority of that power comes from my home district.

We meet Levina at the chariot. Levina, standing tall and confident, a smile plastered on her face despite her similarly garish costume.

"How do you like the costume?" she asks as I climb on.

I snort. "I don't. Somehow, my street clothes look better. You?"

She presses her lips together for a second. "Well..." She cocks her head and looks out towards the sunlight, shining as… well, the sun. "I don't hate it. But all its shimmer and glimmer still pales in comparison to real light."

"Philosophical much?"

"It just seems like our stylists tried so hard to make our costumes radiant when anything they fabricate won't measure up to the real deal."

"I don't know about any 'real deal,' but I agree that it just looks like they tried too hard."

Music begins to blare from deep speakers outside, and one by one, the chariots in front of us begin their ride through the Capitol. I grip the edge until my knuckles turn white, yet I still feel like I'm about to fall.

Levina smiles at me. "You'll be fine."

"I'm sure I will after everything's over. I don't feel fine now." The chariot lurches forward and I nearly fall off. "What do we do? Especially in these costumes? No one will take us seriously."

"Try to smile?" she suggests, "Wave? Stare menacingly into the distance?"

I don't have time to decide before we're out in the street. I guess I'll freeze like a deer in the headlights. Under the full blast of the sun, we travel down the road with cheering crowds on both sides. My eyes lock, staring at a non-existent spot somewhere in the distance as I try to avoid staring directly at one of my indirect killers, lest I actually fall.

"Psst," Levina says, "Our costumes don't look half bad now."

I break my frozen posture to catch a glance of Levina's cape, flapping in the wind. Many of the glittery strips now reflect the afternoon sun, making them almost too bright to look at.

"Not bad at all," I mumble back. I owe Tatiana an apology.

When we finally reach City Circle, the center of the Capitol, it is already late in the day. As the young President Snow begins his cordial welcome, the sun hides its face behind some of the tall buildings, leaving long, dark shadows that cover us like ominous clouds.

They soon take us to the tribute quarters, grumbling the entire way about being off schedule. In the rush to put everything together, everyone ends up ditching us, still in our costumes, in the District Five floor living room. Outside the window, the Capitol skyline now shines against the backdrop of the night sky.

"I was wrong about the costumes," Levina confesses, fingering the corner of the cape.

"You and I both."

"Not that way," she says, "I'm talking about what I said about them compared to the sun."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought the costumes were dull compared to the sun."

"They are," I say, "Look at them now. Just as ugly as they were before."

"But that's completely missing the point. We thought they were supposed to be brighter than the sun, but they aren't. They're supposed to..."

It clicks. "Reflect the sun," I say, finishing her sentence. "It doesn't have to look good as long as it looks good during the parade."

"That's rather genius," she comments. The costumes used their circumstances to make themselves look beautiful enough to be effective, albeit only as long as they need to be.

"That's not the only way to shine, though," I comment, gesturing at the scene outside the window.

She gazes at the Capitol lights, shining against the dark sky. "When there's no light in the surroundings, you have to rely on your own little light."

Tatiana pops her head in the room, breaking the quietness. "Oh. My. Gosh. I am most sorry! Come now! It's dinner timeeee!"

Levina smiles and follows her out, but I pause, staring out the window. Will I have light to reflect, or will I have to shine myself?

Better be prepared for both.

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 **A/N I'm just taking this at my own pace, writing it for fun. Hopefully, the next one doesn't take too long.**

 **Thoughts on Aaran? Was the extended metaphor clear? Where do you think this is going?**

 **Be sure to follow the story! Don't miss the (eventual) update!**


	3. Observation

Under the Tribute Quarters is the Training Center, where we're given two-and-a-half days to prepare for the Games. That's where we are now—

Well, that's where we would be if the elevator was responding, Levina and I wait next to it with our escort Auderia, a plump little woman with more than just a few too many ornaments. She glances at her watch and complains about how the elevator is making us late for training and how the stupid gadgets are malfunctioning this year and how those stupid Districto mechanics can't get anything done.

Levina rolls her clear brown eyes that seem to sparkle and reflect light, much like our costumes yesterday (which would be a false analogy considering the ugliness of the costumes). It seems like the more I look at her, the more I realize how attractive she is. Not that I have any interest; I just hope they won't force her to use it as an asset.

"What should we do when we get down there?" Levina says.

I pause to consider. "What skills do we have? What skills do we need?"

She pauses to think. "I'm pretty good at wires and batteries. I almost burned down my school playing with them in elementary school."

Auderia's jaw drops. "They let you play with what? Poor dear!"

I can't help but smile. "I'm good with shelter. After enough experiences with bad shelter, you learn how to make a safe one."

"Then we could focus on… edible plants? I don't know anything about them."

"Sounds like a plan."

The doors eventually open. We join a lanky girl, a young boy, and their escort, who immediately strikes up a conversation with Auderia. Momentarily, my eyes meet the boy's haunting black eyes. He's the only one I remember from the Reaping recaps. The sun seemed to wash out all the colors, leaving everything in a haze of orange, especially the little boy from the thirteen-year-old section that looked even more helpless against the backdrop of the dusty Town Square. I don't have a right to judge—I'm only two years older than he is—yet he looks so small, so harmless, so… dead.

"Five," I say, referring to my district.

"Ten."

The doors open to reveal the spacious Training Room, where everyone else is already scattered around at the various stations. Auderia leaves us, muttering about "stupid elevators" and "being late." The head trainer sets us loose after a quick overview of the purpose of the days of training.

Levina surveys the room. "I don't see an edible plants station…"

"You've got to be kidding!" I scan the stations as well. No edible plants. "I guess that means we either have an abundance of toxic plants or no plants at all."

She presses her lips together, confusion written on her face. "Then… I guess we start anywhere."

We find ourselves alone at First Aid. The trainer lends us a weak smile. "What would you like to learn?"

"Maybe… a general overview of common injuries," Levina says, "Anything that we need to watch for, really."

As the trainer begins his presentation, I visually wander the room. There are several clusters at the shelter, knot-tying, and burn treatment stations. Interesting that they have set burns apart from the rest of first aid. Surprisingly, the haunting-eyed boy is at the knives along with another cluster of tributes; he has more determination than I gave him credit for. Most of the tributes are at these stations. As for the weapons—

Levina nudges me. "Psst. Are you paying attention?"

I blink and refocus on the trainer, who is demonstrating how to bind a wound on a mannequin. "I was watching the others."

"This stuff might be useful."

"Knowing your enemy is always useful."

My eyes wander to the larger-weapon stations, where this year's group of trained tributes has already coalesced. Their leader appears to be the District Four Male—Tiberius Wharton—a tall, good-looking eighteen-year-old skilled with the spear and the sword. Is he staring at me? No, he's watching Levina. Something about that predatory stare just doesn't sit well with me…

Levina jabs me again. "What's up with you?"

"The DIstrict Four Male was staring right at us."

We both turn our heads to look, but Tiberius is now talking with the others, no longer watching us.

"Maybe you just happened to look up at the wrong time," Levina suggests, "C'mon; actually pay attention. If I get hurt I need you to know what to do."

Although I'm not convinced about Tiberius, I concur and refocus. The trainer is now demonstrating how to cauterize a wound, heating a knife up and then pressing it against the faux wound in one-to-two second bursts.

I wince. "Looks painful, even for the mannequin."

"You'll want to use painkillers or give the patient something to bite down on," the trainer says, "And don't forget to sterilize the blade. Forgetting to do so could result in infection."

I look at Levina. "Do you know how to start a fire?"

She shakes her head. "Not unless it's with batteries."

"Then to the fire-starting station?"

She smiles. "Only if you plan to learn it this time."

"Fine."

The only tribute left at the fire-starting station is a restless girl that looks older than me. Unlike us, her skin is tanned and she seems to be somewhat strong. When we approach, she looks up and watches us for a moment, her shoulders tense.

Levina smiles at her. "Hey. Do you mind if we join you?"

The girl relaxes a bit. "No. Go ahead."

Levina picks up a flint and steel while I study the instruction booklet. "Have you been here all morning?" Levina says.

"Nah," the girl replies, "I spent my morning learning how to use a sickle as a weapon, and I just wanted to check in and make sure I had my act together. It's kind of twisted, you know? I use sickles every day at home, but I've never really held one in my hands and considered using it as a weapon."

Levina nods. "You said you use a sickle every day?"

"Yes. I'm from District Nine. I'm Setaria, by the way."

"Levina, District Five. My partner is Aaran."

As the girls chat, I look inside the basket of rocks while reading the instructions on flint and steel. For flint, I'll need a hard rock, and for the steel, I grab a metal bar. So according to the instructions, I should strike the rock against the metal…

It doesn't seem to work for me. Do I hit them together? Rub them?

"You need help?"

I look up and see Setaria. "Well… yes."

She takes the rock and metal. "You need to do it faster and harder. Put some strength into it… like this… see?"

A spark flashes from the collision.

"But how do you get a fire?"

She grabs a bit of cotton. "Get something flammable and get the spark to catch the something on fire." She gets up. "I'll be moving on now. I'm trying not to waste any time here."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Once she's gone, I look to Levina. "You're awfully friendly."

She shrugs. "It can't hurt, can it? She might spare us now that she knows us."

"Doubt it. She might be nice now, but once we're in the arena, she'll become like all the rest. Home means more to her than we do."

"Still," she says, "It's still helpful to make people hesitant to kill us."

"But aren't you also becoming more hesitant to kill others?"

"Well…" She sighs. "I don't think I could've killed anyone in the first place unless they were about to kill me. Could you?"

I bite my lip. "I don't know. And I don't know if I should want to kill others or not."

A yelp grabs our attention. Over at the axes, a boy has just dropped his practice ax on his foot. Several of the trained group laugh, including Tiberias.

"What do you think of them?" I ask.

Levina studies them for a moment. "I get what you meant about the Four boy. He makes me nervous. District Two will die first."

"Why?"

"The the guy and girl from One loo close, and the Fours are working closely as well. But the Twos look alone. If anything goes wrong, they'll be the first to die."

"I… didn't think of that."

She smirks. "Knowing your enemy is always useful."

In that case, I'll have to keep my eyes open.

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 **A/N Things are still a bit slow, but they're slowly picking up. I dropped so many hints in this chapter ;). Be sure to let me know what you think! MY writing is still a bit rusty; I could definitely use any advice you have.**

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